The Nucleus
by Whisperwill
Summary: Charles sets out to retrieve a teenage boy from a life of forced servitude.  Said boy will be at the center of a new group of mutants Xavier is beginning to form: the X-Men.  One shot.


**Disclaimer: I do not own _X-Men_. I am not making money by posting this story.**

**A/N: Originally completed 3/20/10. I took this idea from a summary of a comic I never read, where Scott was forced to work for someone named Jack O'Diamonds before becoming a full-fledged X-Man. I'm hoping I got it at least somewhat right when I wrote my take on it. Review for me, please?**

**Rated K+ for child (more like adolescent) abuse.**

**The Nucleus**

Charles Xavier pulled up alongside one of the many ramshackle houses in the seedy neighborhood and parked his car at the curb. After opening the door, he pressed the button to automatically lower the ramp and maneuvered his wheelchair down to the street. He wheeled himself through the rank grass with deft strokes of his hands. After disentangling his wheels from the vegetation several times, he finally made it to the door and rang the doorbell. If all went well, he would have a new student within the hour.

A giant of a man with disconcerting black gloves covering his hands answered. Looking Charles up and down sourly, he grunted,

"What do you want?"

Charles met the rudeness with a courteous smile. "Good afternoon. I am Professor Charles Xavier. I have received word that a boy is working for you—"

"How do you know about him?" the man demanded to know.

"When a man takes an apprentice in these parts, word of it tends to spread," Xavier answered without complete honesty. He wasn't from around here, but he preferred for that particular fact to remain in obscurity. "I wish to speak with him, if that's all right with you, that is." Although Charles didn't really need—or desire—the man's permission, he thought it best to proceed with the greatest possible politeness at this early stage. The man was squinting at him suspiciously, and for a moment Charles thought he was going to refuse. But perhaps the sight of a middle-aged man in a wheelchair was less than threatening, for the man waved him inside after a moment of indecision. With one burly arm holding the door for Xavier, he barked into the squalor of the house's interior,

"Scott!"

Charles was still struggling to ease his chair over the threshold when the boy appeared from around a corner. He was a red-haired young man in his late teens. A slab of diamond had been fixed over his eyes. Charles knew instantly that this was whom he had been searching for.

"Greetings, Scott. My name is Charles Xavier," he said cordially. It was hard to discern where the boy's eyes were gazing, but Xavier could tell that the adolescent was staring at him.

"Hello," the boy replied in a low voice.

"You can talk to him if you want," the man told Charles impatiently. To Scott he growled, "Don't let him sell you anything. And make it quick; we've got work to do." Then he threw himself onto a threadbare couch and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Scott, I'm here to present you with a proposition—an invitation, actually," Xavier began, ignoring the stare of suspicion emanating from the sofa. Xavier would have liked to speak privately with Scott, but it was just as well that the man was listening, since he would have found out Charles's intentions sooner or later. There was little point to beating around the bush. "I offer you a chance to join me at my institute for advanced learning."

"What?" came a bellow of protest as the big man surged to his feet and stomped over to them. "He's working for me!" he shouted as he pointed at Scott. Indignation burned hotly inside Charles at the boy's reaction—the way he cowered against the wall as the man came near, and flinched with fear at the finger stabbed in his direction.

"Surely it is his decision to accept my offer or not?" Charles pointed out with careful steadiness of tone.

"You think you can just waltz in here and steal him from me?" the man snapped. Xavier's eyes narrowed; was that all the young man was, a piece of property to be hoarded?

"Mr. O'Diamonds, I believe the time has come to speak openly," Charles declared authoritatively. The man's eyes bugged out.

"Wh—How do you know my name?" he stuttered.

"I know more than that, Mr. O'Diamonds," Xavier continued coldly. "This boy is not your apprentice of his own free will—you have forced him to become your accomplice and to participate in illegal activity. I am here to put an end to this odious arrangement. My offer is legal and valid; your operation is not. You have no right to keep him here if he does not wish to remain." He turned to include the teenager in the conversation. "Well, what do you say, Scott?" For his part, the red-haired boy appeared to be extremely anxious: although Xavier couldn't see the upper half of his face, his skin had blanched, and his fingers were fidgeting compulsively.

"He stays here," O'Diamonds growled, with a glare at Scott. To Xavier's practiced gaze, the boy looked vulnerable and frightened; it was clear that he would do whatever the big man said. Xavier was fairly certain that this fear-driven obedience had something to do with the bruise along the young man's jawbone.

"Scott, Mr. O'Diamonds cannot make you do anything you do not wish to do," Charles said quietly. "You are aware of that, aren't you?" Scott bit his lower lip and shook his head slightly, as though pleading with Xavier not to say more.

"Get outta my house!" roared O'Diamonds. He came at Charles with both of his fists raised, but Scott suddenly stepped between the two of them.

"Don't hurt him!" the adolescent besought his master. The big man didn't hesitate to knock Scott out of the way. Charles heard a strange clang as O'Diamonds's hand made contact with the boy's chin. Scott hit the far wall with a thud and slid to the floor, looking dazed.

The time had come for Xavier to act. He didn't like using his powers on another: the mind of every individual was his inner sanctum, and to violate such a private place was not something Charles did often. But to prevent this violent mutant from doing harm to an old man in a wheelchair—or a young man unable to defend himself—Charles made the decision to unleash his mutant abilities. He closed his eyes and focused his mind on the other man's.

"Mr. O'Diamonds, stop this foolishness _at once_!" he commanded in a thundering voice. The burly mutant halted where he was, his arms still outstretched, his eyes blank. Xavier located the reticular formation in the man's brain and shut down the cerebral cortex. "Sleep, now," he finished as O'Diamonds obligingly lay down on the floor. "When you awake, Scott will be gone." He opened his eyes and gave O'Diamonds a perfunctory glance to ensure that the man had truly lapsed into unconsciousness. Then he wheeled himself ably over to Scott, who was still sitting propped against the wall.

"Scott?" he murmured, touching the red hair and bending down to press his fingers against the boy's carotid artery. The pulse was perfectly normal, and Charles didn't sense any effects of a brain injury. The teen had simply been knocked out. Xavier directed his attention to the young man's mind and repeated, _Scott_?

That got his attention. Immediately the boy stirred, opened his eyes, and sat up. He put a hand to his head and blinked at Charles in bemusement. "Mr. Xavier?" he asked uncertainly.

"That's right, Scott. You were thrown against the wall," Charles reminded him. Still jumpy, Scott swept the room with his eyes, making sure that O'Diamonds wasn't about to strike him again. At least, that was what Xavier suspected him to be doing, but the visor made it hard to tell. Scott's head remained turned toward O'Diamonds for several seconds. When he turned his face back to Xavier's, he wore an insightful expression.

"You're a mutant, aren't you, Mr. Xavier?" Scott's suspicion was in the form of a question, but Charles could see that the boy was quite sure of himself.

"Yes, I am, Scott," he replied frankly. "Just like Mr. O'Diamonds. Just like you." Scott gave a start of surprise, then surveyed Xavier through the milky diamond covering his eyes.

"What are you going to do?" the adolescent asked, his voice quiet. Charles felt a pang of sadness. Scott took it for granted that since his mutant nature was known, Xavier would exploit that knowledge, either to blackmail him or to label him as a freak. It was the same way everywhere—normal humans committed acts of violence against innocent mutants, while evil mutants used their powers to terrorize those who had no mutant abilities. Shouts of "Dirty muties!" were met with screams of "Flatscan trash!" Xavier yearned to change all the way people thought, and to substitute peace for the current worldwide conflict. Scott, although he didn't know it, was the key that just might make Charles's dreams possible.

"It is because you are a mutant that I have invited you to my school, Scott," he explained gently. "It is a place where mutants can live and learn to use their powers in safety." He watched as Scott digested this information. "I had hoped," he went on somewhat hesitantly, "that you could be the first of my students to take up residence at the Institute for Gifted Youngsters." Scott's head moved as his invisible gaze moved aimlessly around the room. Xavier thought he was taking the decision remarkably maturely; instead of seeming to be at a loss, he merely appeared deep in thought. After weighing the matter carefully in his mind, Scott looked back at him and nodded.

"Yes. I'll come."

Charles let out his breath and smiled. "Well, Scott, if you're going to come with me, you're going to have to wear something besides that visor." He pulled a pair of specially-made ruby-quartz sunglasses out of his pocket and handed them to the young mutant. "These are for you." Scott stared, unsure what to make of them.

"Mr. Xavier, I don't think you understand," he protested. "My eyes—if I take this visor off—"

"I think I understand perfectly, Scott," Charles broke in quietly. "You see, these sunglasses were made with the intention of holding even the most powerful lasers at bay." Scott was obviously surprised to discover that Xavier knew of his mutant power. For a moment he gazed at the glasses with the eagerness of a child who had received exactly what he wanted under the Christmas tree, but then he shook his head, disappointed.

"No, the visor is locked. And Mr. O'Diamonds is the only one who knows where the key is."

"I think I may be able to fix that," Charles replied. He pressed his hands to his temples and sent his telepathic power stretching outward. O'Diamonds's mind opened up to him, and before a second had gone by, Charles had the information he needed. He pointed. "It's in that desk, in the very back of the third drawer, buried underneath trash," he told Scott. The teenager was on his feet immediately, hurrying over to the desk and rummaging around until he found the key. He put his hands behind his head and unlocked the chain holding his visor in place with such startling adeptness that Charles wondered if he had rehearsed it in his mind. Holding the diamond slab against his face, Scott came back to Xavier and took the sunglasses from his outstretched hand. With his eyes shut so tightly that his entire face was screwed up from the effort of keeping them closed, he made the switch, putting the glasses on and tossing the diamond visor away. Yet he still wouldn't open his eyes.

"It's all right, Scott," Charles assured him, his voice gentle. "I have tested these lenses numerous times. You don't have to be afraid." Slowly, Scott opened his eyes a crack. When he discovered that his power wouldn't break through, he opened them fully and stared around the room, awed by his newfound freedom. He rubbed his hands through his hair where the chain had constricted him, then shook Charles's hand vigorously.

"Mr. Xavier, thank you!" he exclaimed happily. "This is—it's—it's the best present I've ever gotten!" For the first time, he smiled, and Charles was surprised how much it transformed his pensive face. "And I promise I'll study hard," said Scott earnestly. "I won't disappoint you."

"I don't doubt you at all, Scott," Xavier replied with a smile of his own. And he meant it. There was something about this indrawn, sincere boy—his quiet strength—that caused Charles to put faith in him. Scott Summers would become the nucleus at the center of a group of mutants dedicated to preserving peace. It was only one boy, only the beginning. But Xavier had every hope that soon, it would be much more—that soon, he would see his dream become a reality.

_The End_


End file.
